Coming Round Again
Belts and braces –
literally –
let’s not try metaphor,
hide meaning,
instead, let’s feed on
feelings
either eat or be consumed
because sometimes they
take teaspoons,
tap your head,
crack you open like an
egg.
It’s coming round again,
tonguing your belly like
fire,
moving up through guts to
heart
and we all have guilt. For
a start,
your sending him to school
in trousers
tied around the waist with
string
and I have pain about
similar things:
Belts and braces – don’t
fade.
Children can be cruel at
that age,
I remember my own drubbing,
those second tier bullies
rubbing
my youngish nose in it -
and a coat unpicked,
stich by stitch, at the
seams,
every night trying to
avoid another clubbing
by concealing more leaked
stuffing.
But, you know, you slough
your chrysalis and make it
to man.
These days, I’m old – I
can
reach in my pocket, shell
out a few shekels,
after all, it’s only what
life has dealt,
so, let’s go to buy the
boy a belt.
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